KY

I will not argue with anyone about normalization, especially after seeing the blood of my people on the streets and their flesh plastered across concrete. May every collaborator meet a swift end, and may history remember that we refused to let the soul of this nation fade quietly on your terms.

The difference between the two photos is that the Vogue cover is an editorial, meaning the photographer made the conscious choice to curate a racist caricature of a black man, whereas the Israeli settler simply Just Looks Like That. This whole controversy around the L’Espresso cover is reminding me how much I held my tongue as a teenager, afraid that I would sound crazy if I repeated what I saw settlers doing. For example, one of the Jewish settlers who lived in the stolen half (yes, half) of our house in Jerusalem would repeatedly do unspeakable, perverted things to a German Shepherd they kept in the house. Whenever international activists came to visit, I'd tell them that the settlers beat the dog, which was true, but I often omitted the part about the sexual abuse--something about naming it outright made me feel dirty, as if complicit (I was also very young) until one day the settler did it while two European activists were present. He most likely wanted to be watched. A couple days later, there was a graffiti on our wall that said something like "settlers are very, very strange people." The way Israeli settlers are depicted in the media is, in fact, very often understated. I assume people worry about coming across as conspiratorial or bigoted, so they often hesitate to report the full extent of such depravity. But at the end of the day, it is really not our problem that many Jewish settlers are quite frankly caricatures of themselves.

I regularly see tweets by @moayedHarazeen about Gaza & conditions there go viral in a way that his tweets about his project (to launch a free co-working space for students & freelancers in Gaza) never do. Please help change that. Share & donate if you can: chuffed.org/project/moayed…

behind the amazing quality & number of operations we so readily admire lies the reality of the battlefield & of the men who must endure it … we remain strangers to the burdens that make the miracles possible … we cannot know the fatigue that settles into their limbs, nor the discipline required to gather one’s strength for yet another day whose end is never assured … nor do we perceive the subtler trials, the hearts they miss, the affections they must set aside, nor those who miss them … what shelter they find, whether beneath the mercy of trees that is known only to them … meanwhile the demands of the field itself are sharpened by a ruthless Enemy … & it is this very reality that compels the increase in their effort & urges them onward … lest we be mindful of who it is that is fighting, under what weight of circumstances both within & without, amid what political & military contexts … blessed be their bones, their eyes, & their souls

In early 2025 right after the January ceasefire, I was finally able to bring my dad a soothing cream for his bleeding cracked feet with the help of an amazing doctor and her colleague from the US . I dreamed of this moment. I begged for it. It was all that I needed to happen. I prayed night in and night out for it. I travelled to Khan Younis to meet the nurse at Nasser Hospital in order to pick up the cream. When I saw him, I didn’t wait, I immediately asked him to take the medicine out of his backpack. It was the gem I have been searching about since the outset of the genocide — the most priceless treasure. My dad would now eventually relax and heal from an utterly devastating pain he had endured for over a year and a half at the time. This is what all I thought about. Nothing more. I went back home and handed him the cream with the instructions to use it which prompted him to tell me, “May Allah bless and comfort you in this life. You’re my very dear, Abubaker.” I was emotionally taken by storm and felt the proudest son in this world. He, for years, poured his heart out for my tranquility and future. He never spared an effort for that. I bore a witness to the days he didn’t get back home from his work until next day or to the nights he didn’t sleep pondering over our rest. He began applying the cream over his wounded feet which gradually improved by the time. A few days later, his feet became entirely different. The rashes and wounds disappeared . He started walking normally again. The floor of our rooms was no longer smudged with blood. His happiness was unmatched. He never felt that confident, self-satisfied, and calm in a very long time. It was for me and my family everything we desperately wanted to see happen. And every day, my father would thank Allah and then me and pray for the doctor and nurse who brought him the medicine. We were very concerned that we wouldn’t be able to afford or obtain the medicine again. I told my father,” Insha’Allah, we would bring it again.” After he used the last drop of that cream in late March, we tried and strived to find out a way to send the cream into Gaza again. Neither the doctor nor the nurse could go into Gaza. The other doctors and medical staffers were incapable of smuggling the cream in due to the intensified restrictions imposed on the foreign international delegations to Gaza. Our concerns became more pressing than before. The suffering of my father was revived. His blood was getting all over the floor once more. The explosives would echo his piercing shouts. Every two minutes or so, we would check on him. I made every effort. However, I was never successful again. And up until now, I haven't been able to figure out how to get the medication to Gaza one more time. Since I left, my father has changed. He goes to bed earlier than normal. His anxiety and loneliness have surged. Every day, his sensation of yearning and missing consumes him. Why do I as thousands of sons in Gaza fail to serve our fathers? Why are we plunged into our guilt and resentment helplessly and pessimistically? Why can’t we talk and be with our fathers as we would crave to? My father deserves a cream. My father deserves to dream. I deserve to be next to him all the time. I shouldn’t be punished for anything because I have done nothing wrong. May that cream from that corner of that pharmacy somewhere in the United States brought and sent by the blessed hands of the doctor and the nurse create itself again and find my way at my father’s drawer again. Survival has no meanings anymore. I was gullible and ignorant to believe it was staying away from the harm’s way. It actually means seeing my father well and having his back until we leave this world together. The trauma and the guilt are an emotional suicide. I want to live to dream, not dream to live.

Living Netanyahu was all, "Amalek! Kill Them All!" and dead Netanyahu is like, "I have all my fingers. I drink coffee! I'm alive!"

@gilbertachcar @NewPoliticsMag It’s a good thing you’re all irrelevant

Stop the War Immediately! @NewPoliticsMag We, the signatories of this statement advocating for a democratic transition in Iran, firmly reject war as a means of resolving international disputes. newpol.org/petition-stop-…

I may or may not live to witness the end of Israel, but I’m living to witness the end of the idea of Dubai and I think that is beautiful.

كنّا بلّشنا نحكي عبري

Hassan Abdallah Hamdan (known also as Mahdi 'Amel) — southern Lebanese Marxist historian, born in 1936 in the village of Harouf. From 'The Path of Revolution in Lebanon is Our Universe', published in 1982 and as translated by Ahmad Elamine: "The logic of history dictates that it must follow the path of struggle—against the invaders in Lebanon and against all tyrants from the ocean to the gulf. History has always progressed through the logic of this struggle. They plot, but their plots will turn against them. On the surface, they seem to be in control of events: initiating, destroying, and seeking revenge. They besiege the land, sea, and sky, championing death. Yet, in our eyes, death will besiege them from every corner in the forthcoming era. They claimed the war in Lebanon would be swift. They said that in just a few days, those who had not yet knelt, who only understand the language of force, would finally kneel. They declared that there would be no Salaam, only Shalom, and that Israel is the Rome of our day. To the kings of Israel and their imperialist masters—the masters of the foul regimes in our Arab world, to the petty fascists—we say: It pleases us to spit in your faces. We will fight you even with our nails. Our fists are the compass of history, and the bullets of our freedom will pierce your hearts that beat death inside your ribs. To you, we say: Brick by brick, we will build a world on your filthy graves. You are the dustbin of history, and Beirut is the city of the free who have made a vow: We will resist you. This is our guiding principle: No to fascism. The path of revolution in Lebanon is our universe. From our defiance, a beautiful morning will rise, as we champion it now, in this very moment, now, now, now—and it will triumph through us.”

Since last night the Men of God have been repelling wave after another of Jewish invaders in south Lebanon, & bombarding their gathering bases & colonies at rates unseen even in the 66 day war. ps, USS Lincoln is running away limp in the Indian Ocean. Glory to the Muslim Warriors of the world.

سلطة الاحتلال الأميركي للبنان ترسل الجيش لإخلاء مدرسة من النازحين في بيروت!

تقنين التفاؤل واجب في هذه الأيام. رد محور المقاومة من البأس الإيراني إلى مفاجآت الحزب في لبنان تفتح مساراً جديداً مضاداً لمسار الهزيمة الذي كان يرسم. لكن المعركة لم تنته وما زال في جعبة العدو أوراق كثيرة، أبرزها الإشغالات الداخلية. لذا العمل واجب لصون المقاومة وأهلها وسرديتها.

Lebanese Marxist Leninist George Abdallah: "The one who resists is the one who has the final say...all spectators have no right to discuss any topic."

@AnasBukhash Koss ommak

🇦🇪❤️ We stay united.

The dirt on the shoe of a resistance fighter is worth more than the entire Gulf countries combined

These backpacks of Iranian children that Israel killed today remind me of the airstrikes on the southern suburb of Beirut (Dahye) and seeing children's backpacks laid out in the rubble of the deadly aftermath.

As I can see the daylight, the armed resistance will never die in Gaza but will grow stronger and continue until the liberation of the entire Palestinian Territories.

BREAKING: The media class is going full babies in incubators atrocity propaganda now to launch the war on Iran. The AP is citing a new 2000 killed in Iran figure, and it's straight from a CIA-created and funded front. Then they go: Wow Trump posted a new threat right after!

Renee Nicole Good is the second person who has been killed by ICE this week. In LA, ICE killed Keith Porter in his own home as he celebrated on New Year’s Eve.